


First of a Million Kisses

by indigo (indigo_angels)



Category: The A-Team (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 23:58:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12179013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_angels/pseuds/indigo
Summary: “For fuck’s sake!” This was Face, and Hannibal’s eyes narrowed at the anger he heard in his voice. “Will you two just chill and let me handle this?”BA flashed a look at Hannibal who held Face’s stare. “You will not handle it in this way, Lieutenant,” he hissed. “And that is a direct order.”





	First of a Million Kisses

They were in the shit and Hannibal knew it. He went back over the plan in his head, trying to pinpoint the exact second that it had all gone wrong, when he’d made the wrong call, but he just couldn’t find it. 

It had been going so well, they’d tracked down the gang that had been slowly stripping the rhino from the bush, found the evidence of their poaching all packaged up and ready to be shipped out to China, they’d tied the culprits up, locked them securely in the hangar, called in the Kenyan officials and they were just waiting, already looking forward to a few days in a beach resort before heading back home. And then the others arrived, silently and without warning appearing from the scrub with their automatic weapons and the fight had been fast and dirty.

They’d never seen any evidence at all of this _army_ that had suddenly appeared, Gathii, the client, hadn’t mentioned a thing and the leader of the apprehended gang of poachers hadn’t even gloated to his capturers about reinforcements arriving. Hannibal had wondered about that, but then his wondering had been cut short when the poachers had been untied and led out of the hangar to kneel in the dirt of the midday sun. The same burst of automatic gunfire killed them all and within minutes, their warm and bleeding corpses were moved, with the aid of a JCB, into a mass grave at the side of the property. It was at that point that Hannibal realised the two gangs of bad guys were not particularly well acquainted.

He’d been relieved that his team had, so far at least, avoided the same swift treatment as the men they had been hired to capture, but as he watched the wooden crates of ivory being loaded into stolen Jeeps, he wondered how long they had left.

As if in answer to his thoughts, the man he’d identified as the General came back into the office where they were being held on their knees at gunpoint, hands tied behind their heads in a position uncomfortably close to how the poaching gang had met their violent end, the nooses around their necks fastened to the bars on the windows. He gave them a cursory inspection, and then immediately launched into a hurried conversation with one of the guards. Hannibal strained to listen then let out a frustrated huff as he realised they were speaking Arabic. That explained a lot, like how this band were probably Somali raiders come across the border and his brow furrowed as he tripled his efforts to think their way out.

“They’re trying to decide if we’re worth taking back as hostages.” 

Face’s voice drifted through the afternoon heat at his side and Hannibal’s frown deepened. He’d rather not have to try and escape across Somalia before they could head home, but if they decided that they weren’t worth the effort then maybe their end might be a whole lot quicker in coming.

One of the guards came closer and without warning cracked the butt of his gun across Face’s temple, sending him reeling into BA who held him up, kept the weight off the noose around his neck, with nothing more than a pained grunt. Hannibal’s eyes darted left and he watched as his XO heaved himself upright once more, blinking away the blood and sweat from his eyes.

Then the decision had been made and without another glance in their direction, the General turned on his heel. The guard he’d spoken to barked out a few quick instructions and then they all left, all but the one guard who’d struck Face who now just stood in the doorway, his automatic rifle pointed squarely their way. Hannibal was desperate to ask what the outcome of that hurried conversation had been, but he was unwilling to bring another gun butt down on the kid so he went back to waiting, and thinking.

As he thought, his eyes ran over his team, checking them out, assessing what they would be capable of when the opportunity arose. BA had taken a violent tumble from the back of a Jeep in their aborted attempt to retreat. He was covered in gravel rash, his skin raw and bleeding, but Hannibal knew, dreadful as it looked, that it was fairly superficial. 

Face had stumbled onto the knees of blood soaked combats when they’d dragged him into the office, but the wink he’d casually thrown Hannibal as the noose was slipped around his neck had led the Colonel to believe that he too was suffering from nothing too serious. He’d been alert and attentive as well, right up until the blow to his head. Hannibal watched him now, watched him watching the lone guard and hoped that he wasn’t fighting with a concussion.

Murdock, on his left, however, was a whole other case. He’d been the first dragged in and by the time Hannibal arrived, he was slumped down on his knees, his head hanging and his chest heaving. He’d rallied a little since then, but the laboured breath that Hannibal could hear led him to believe that his ribs were, at the very least, badly bruised. 

Outside, the last of the crates were finally loaded into the Jeeps, and with a roar of engines, the soldiers left. Hannibal and BA exchanged a quick glance as their gun toting guard continued in his staring match with Face but before they had the chance to convey anything meaningful, another engine started up into the silence, and with a jolt to his stomach, Hannibal realised it was the JCB.

BA’s eyes took on a desperate edge as they held Hannibal’s and Hannibal could see his muscular arms flexing as he tried to free himself from his ropes, but he knew it was an almost useless hope, the cords were too thick and too securely fastened.

And then Face spoke, his voice sounding out loud over the engine, effortlessly sliding over complex Arabic syllables, making it sound almost like poetry. Hannibal shot him a look, but Face only had eyes for the guard, watching him with the very edges of a smile on his lips. 

The guard shifted slightly and looked over his shoulder before barking something at Face and turning to scowl at BA. But Face wasn’t to be put off, and again he spoke, his voice deep and low and in that timbre that Hannibal had come to both love and hate over the years – love because of the guilty pleasure it gave him, hate, as it was never, ever, directed his way. He glanced at Face, saw his moist, parted lips, the way he was watching the guard from under hooded eyes and he felt bile start to rise in his gut. “Face!” he hissed, “What the _fuck_ do you think you are doing?” 

Face either didn’t hear him, or, more likely, ignored him. He just offered the guard a slow and teasing smile and spoke again, a long, lilting sentence that obviously ended in a question. 

Outside, the JCB suddenly shut off and the silence that followed was eerie. Hannibal and BA exchanged another loaded stare but Face seemed oblivious, repeating his question as he held the guard’s eyes. Hannibal watched, breath held as the guard adjusted his trousers and turned to the second soldier who had now appeared in the doorway. Their conversation was frantic and hurried with more than a glance thrown Face’s way. Eventually though, a deal must have been struck as the two men shook hands and the second, with one quick leer at Face, ducked back out into the sunshine. 

The single guard put his automatic weapon down on the table and instead pulled a knife from a sheath on his thigh. He walked slowly towards them; knife held out, eyes on Face and beside him, Hannibal felt Murdock stiffen. Face, however, still had that half smile on his lips and he whispered something to the guard that had him noticeably flushing. 

It was the work of a moment to cut the noose from Face’s neck and haul him to his feet and the reaction from Hannibal and BA was just as fast.

“Put him down, sucka!” BA seethed, struggling afresh against his own ropes. 

“Face!” the desperation in Hannibal’s voice was clear even to his own ears. 

The guard reacted by whipping a hand gun from the shoulder holster over his vest and pressing it tight to Face’s temple, a volley of hot, angry words punctuating his meaning.

“For fuck’s sake!” This was Face, and Hannibal’s eyes narrowed at the anger he heard in his voice. “Will you two just chill and let me handle this?” 

BA flashed a look at Hannibal who held Face’s stare. “You will not handle it in this way, Lieutenant,” he hissed. “And that is a direct order.”

Face’s eyes hardened and, fed up of waiting, the guard dragged him to the other side of the room. “Too late...” was all Hannibal heard as he watched his XO pushed back to his knees. There was a moment of silent horror as the gun was moved to rest right in the centre of his forehead, but the guard only spoke, low and threatening, for a moment, waiting for Face’s nod, before he moved it away, flicking the safety back on and stowing it back in the holster. Then, with his knife still in his hand, he undid the fly of his trousers. 

Hannibal stared on, stoic behind the mess of emotion inside him, but at his sides, Murdock let out a little whimper and dropped his eyes to the floor as BA swore, low and colourfully under his breath. Face, however, ignored them all, whispering to the guard as he pulled his own semi-erect cock out of his trousers, waiting until the man had widened his stance and shuffled forward a little, then leaning forward to take the whole organ into his mouth in one.

It must have felt good, that first wet heat, as the guard’s eyes rolled back into his head and he moaned long and loud. Despite himself, Hannibal flushed at the sound and as BA turned his head away, he found he couldn’t follow suit, was fixated watching Face do the exact thing that had featured so often in his own private, nighttime fantasies.

Face had his eyes closed as he worked, slowly pulling right off the length in his mouth, leaving it shining in spit in his wake, only to push back again just before it fell from his mouth. The guard had opened his own eyes and was watching, his chin tucked into his chest, his breath heaving as his cock thickened and grew with every expert suckle. Within a minute, he was fully erect and Face couldn’t fit the whole length in his mouth any more. He pulled right off, smiling as the freed cock sprang up to stand, shining and proud, in a shaft of sunlight and Hannibal couldn’t look away from him.

Then he dipped his head once more, swirling his tongue around the swollen head, pausing to lick away the beads of pre-cum that oozed out of the slit before leaning in, trapping the cock up against the guard’s belly and suckling at that little point right where the vein met the head. Again, the guard moaned and Hannibal felt a jolt of shame flash through him at the way his own cock twitched in his pants. Face, however, was oblivious, flicking his tongue up and down that pulsing vein, pausing to lick or suck at tender balls, placing careful little bites up and down the solid length and it seemed that the guard had never felt anything so incredible in his whole life.

On and on it went, just as the guard’s breathing quickened and shallowed, Face would slow right down again, pull back a little and wait until he had calmed. Then he would start again, sliding on and off, hollowing his cheeks as he pulled back, pushing his head down until his nose was pressed tight into damp, pubic hair – Hannibal continued to watch and found himself equal parts horrified and aroused.

Then the guard spoke, his voice dry and hoarse and he put the knife down onto the table, grabbing Face’s head with both hands and holding him as he started fucking his mouth. Face struggled against him and with a twist and a pull managed to spit the cock out, looking up to meet the guard’s furious eyes with his own, words pouring from him at speed. Hannibal had tensed, but whatever it was that Face had said had obviously done the job of soothing the guard’s anger and he nodded, letting his hands fall to his sides as Face went back to his job.

For maybe five more minutes, the only sounds in the room were the heavy breaths of the guard, the wheezing rasps from Murdock and the obscene slurping as Face slowly, slowly, edged the cock in his mouth to completion. Time and time again, he seemed to be right there, right at the point where the guy was about the blow, then he’d lose it, his rhythm would go, the cock would slip from his mouth and he’d have to start the climb to orgasm again. 

After the third time it happened, the guard hissed something in anger and Face replied, his eyes wet and pleading, a thin trail of saliva joining him to the head of the rock hard cock. The guard shook his head and Face went back to work, but after one more aborted climax the guard had had enough, snatching up the knife and hacking through the ropes that held Face’s hands behind his head with clumsy, desperate strokes.

Instantly Face was back to his job, but this time he had a hand on the guy’s length, right at the base, holding him steady, and another stroking and fondling the tightening balls. With a moan, the guard’s head fell backwards, both hands fisted at his sides as he edged closer and closer. Face expertly worked him, holding him still as he deep throated him only to suck hard as he pulled off and the noises from the guard began to increase. He was gasping now, his hips twitching, a hand on the back of Face’s head and then he tensed, a long groan filling the room as his spurting cock filled Face’s mouth. 

Murdock was singing under his breath as he stared at the floor, BA had his eyes shut tight, but Hannibal was transfixed, his eyes glued to the expression on the guard’s face as he emptied himself into that sweet and beautiful mouth. 

Then everything changed, the moan turned into a strangled cry and Face was showered in blood. Hannibal’s eyes widened as he watched the guard’s knife on its journey from balls to sternum, carving a wide, red, track in its wake, but before the guard had even had the chance to stagger out of Face’s reach, Face had the AK-47 from the table in his hands and he was dead. Without a glance at his teammates, Face scrambled to his feet and was off out of the door, the sound of bullets suddenly filling the heat of the afternoon.

“What in God’s name was that all about?” BA snapped, back to struggling with his ropes but Hannibal ignored him.

“Murdock? Son? How you doing there, you with us?”

Murdock didn’t answer with anything other than a nod, but it was enough for Hannibal who turned to the door when all gunfire abruptly stopped outside. Footsteps were limping their way and the three of them froze, exhaling in relief as Face, eyes narrow and determined, appeared in the doorway, “Okay, boys,” he quipped, yanking the knife from the stomach of the dead guard, “time to go home,” before he limped forward, and starting with Murdock, cut them all free. 

Hannibal struggled to his feet; his legs numb from lack of blood and pulled Murdock with him. “BA, find us some transport,” he barked. “I need to call Gathii and we need to get the hell out of here.” And then, with Murdock at his side and BA on his heels, they staggered out into the sunshine, leaving a blood-splattered Face staring after them. 

___________________________ 

Face stepped out of the shower and snagged the towel off the back of the door, patting himself dry as he mulled over his plan for the evening. It was their last night here in Mombasa, the last of three nights in paradise that had been anything but. Hannibal had wanted to head straight home, but Murdock and BA both wanted the R&R that they’d been promised. For Face it was much more simple – he wanted Hannibal to stop ignoring him.

The boss had hardly spoken a word to Face since they’d crawled, a little battered and beaten, into the back of the only Jeep BA could persuade to start. It had just about managed to get them to Gathii’s little house where they stayed only long enough to get their gear together before they headed off. Hannibal and Face had been sharing a bedroom like they always did, and they’d been in there together packing up. Face had watched Hannibal moving around the room managing never to make eye contact with Face and eventually he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Hey,” he’d reached out, placed a hand on Hannibal’s arm only to have it removed as if burned. 

“Don’t,” was all Hannibal had said, throwing the last things into his bag and walking out, yet again leaving Face staring after him in hurt confusion.

It was no better once they had piled into their hire car. Gathii had insisted on paying them their agreed fee, no matter how violently Hannibal protested against it; he said that the poaching had been eradicated and that’s all he’d been interested in – he wasn’t at all bothered how it had been achieved. Hannibal had still looked far from convinced, but Face knew they needed to money to get home and so had taken it with a warm smile and a handshake and a filthy glare from the boss. Then came Murdock and BA’s dissent about the vacation and so by the time they actually set off for the long drive to the south and the hotel owned by Gathii’s cousin, Hannibal wasn’t speaking to anyone.

Unless he was driving, Face spent the whole trip curled up in the back with his earphones in, he had no desire to hear either whatever Hannibal was going to be saying about him, or the awful awkward silence when no one was speaking. But by the time they arrived at the five star Ocean Paradise hotel it was clear that Hannibal _was_ speaking to Murdock and BA, but was still sullen and short whenever Face ventured a word in his direction.

And then came the shock with the rooms. Hannibal and Face always shared a room, always. They had done ever since they had become their little, intensive two-man team, and none of that changed when Murdock and BA came on the scene. So when Hannibal came back from checking in and gave him a key, taking the other and BA off in the other direction, Face was, yet again, left standing in painful shock.

The three days had gone by quietly. Face had sunbathed and swam, snorkelled and windsurfed. He’d spent most of his time with Murdock, BA with his healing gravel rash had stayed out of the sun and the sand and the salt, while Hannibal had kept to the veranda of his beach bungalow, with a book and a beer and still hardly a word for Face. But tonight that was all due to change.

He wandered into the main room of his bungalow, stepping over Murdock’s wet towel, his wet shorts, his cap, his shades, his iPod and his second best shirt, before getting to his kit bag and his carefully packed belongings. He pulled out the only pair of shorts he had, the only shirt he’d brought and wished he had something better, something that might impress Hannibal, make a difference...

Sitting on the bed with a thump, he faced up to the fact that it probably wouldn’t matter what he wore, what he said, what he did. All that mattered now was who he was and how that was obviously someone that Hannibal couldn’t quite stomach. 

It was to do with that blowjob, of course he knew that, he wasn’t that stupid, but what the hell it was that had got Hannibal so wound up, he had no idea, no idea at all. They were in a fix, and Face had got them out of it. He used his head and he used the resources he had, just what Hannibal had always told him to do. So what was the issue? Was it because he’d seen how damn good Face was at giving head? He’d worked out that he’d had some practise? And then what? He didn’t approve? He didn’t want him around anymore? There was no room in his team for a _fag_?

His cheeks flushed at the mere thought of that word, of thinking that _that’s_ all that Hannibal saw in him. But what else could it be? He’d racked his brains, over and over and over, and he couldn’t come up with anything other than the boss was repulsed with what he’d seen, with what he knew Face was now. He’d never given Face the chance to explain, to justify his actions, none of them had. BA had kept to himself, Murdock had just shaken his head and changed the subject and of course, Hannibal had shut him out completely. 

He climbed slowly to his feet, well, tonight was the night that he cleared it all up, or tried to at any rate. They couldn’t continue like this, either Hannibal got whatever was bothering him off his chest – or Face would have to give him a bit of space, give them all a bit of space, and the thought of that was frankly terrifying. He pulled his clothes on, ran his fingers through his wet hair and, taking a deep breath, grabbed his room key and headed out into the approaching twilight.

_____________________

Hannibal sighed and set down his book as soon as it got too dark to read. The night came swift and thick here, plunging the terrace into blackness almost between pages. He glanced at his watch and wondered how to spend the rest of his evening. BA had gone out for a few drinks with Face and Murdock and he’d declined, he still wasn’t sure he knew how to act around the kid yet, wasn’t sure he could trust himself not to start shouting, asking questions he actually didn’t want to hear the answers to. 

He frowned into the darkness, letting his mind drift on the sound of the waves and back to that awful afternoon, when the realisation hit him hard and fast that Face had so many hidden parts to him, so many... _faces_ ... that Hannibal had been kidding himself all these years that he’d ever known him at all. 

That little stunt he pulled on the Somali guard... Hannibal flushed just thinking about it. What on earth had that been about? Was that just Face thinking his way out of a difficult situation? Or was that Face just being... Face? There was no way that that was the first time the kid had done that, no way at all. But what it meant and more importantly why it was even important, Hannibal didn’t like to think.

“Hey.”

He looked up, caught out in his thoughts and straight into Face’s blank and bleak face. “Kid,” he answered, wondering why that nickname still stuck so hard with him when it was obvious that Face was far, _far_ from the kid he had been when they’d first met. “BA’s already gone, went out about half an hour ago.”

“I know,” Face said quietly, still edging around the side of the terrace. “I’m not here to see him,” Hannibal met his eye. “We need to talk, boss.”

Uninvited he finally stepped up, placing two chilled bottles of beer in the middle of the table and sliding into the seat at Hannibal’s side so they were facing the dark sea together. They sat in silence, Hannibal watching the beads of condensation trail down his bottle while Face took swallow after swallow at his side, the discomfort rolling off him in waves. 

Face was right, they were going back tomorrow, and they needed to get this cleared up, but the truth was that Hannibal had no idea what he could say to make this any better, what on earth he could tell Face that the kid might ever want to hear.

“Do you want me to leave the team?”

That got his attention; his head swivelled around to see those expressive blue eyes, wide in the dark, just staring at him. 

“No, Face. God, no. Why on earth would you think that?” It was a stupid question; he knew that the second the words left his mouth, but Face leave the team? Never.

“Seriously boss?” the laugh that left his lips was anything but amused. “How can I be in the team when you can’t even stand to look at me?”

Hannibal sighed. How was he going to get out of this? He should have been more guarded, should have moderated his emotions more. Of course Face would see it all like this, as if it were all his fault. Silence greeted his question, the roar of the waves punctuating every swallow of beer until Face’s bottle was empty. 

“Okay,” there was an ugly scrape of chair legs as Face pushed back. “I get it, you don’t have to worry, I’ll stay out of your way.”

“Face wait,” Hannibal stood as well, reaching out to grab Face’s arm before he could leave. “You don’t need to do that.”

“No?” Face turned to look right at him and Hannibal was horrified at the tears he saw in those oh-so blue eyes. “Come on Hannibal, I’ve let you down and it was always going to happen. I always told you that you’d see me for what I really was one day.”

Hannibal shook his head, he’d heard this so many times before already and it was always going to be bullshit. He saw Face better than the kid saw himself, saw all that goodness and light, the spark and possibility. “That’s not true,” he said, keeping his hand wrapped around Face’s arm. “It’s not like that at all.”

“No? What then, boss? Why all the silence, why won’t you share a room with me? You trying to tell me that I _don’t_ repulse you? Please...” The tear in Face’s voice was agony to hear.

“You don’t, kid,” he whispered, turning away, unable to stand the pain. “It’s not that.”

Face held his ground; Hannibal could hear his stressed breathing behind him. “So, what then?” he repeated. “What the fuck’s been going on? I got us out, boss. We were stuck and I fixed it. If sucking some dickhead’s cock was what it took to save us all then-”

“ _Save_ us?” Hannibal whirled on the spot. “You think doing that, lowering yourself to _that_ , was saving us?”

Face blinked at him. “Well, we’re all here aren’t we?” 

“But at what cost?” he stabbed a finger into Face’s chest. “What has it cost us, cost _you_ to do that?”

Another humourless laugh came from Face. “ _Cost_ me?” he asked. “It’s cost me nothing boss; please don’t think for one minute that I was a blushing virgin back there.”

Unbidden, images of Face on his knees, wringing pleasure from the Somali guard burst into Hannibal’s mind. “Oh, don’t you worry,” he growled, “I think that _that_ was fucking obvious.”

Face bristled. “I see,” he snapped. “And so now we get to the bottom of all of this, you don’t want any gays on the team, huh?”

A frown creased Hannibal’s brow; that was so far from the mark that it should have been funny. “You’re not even gay,” he said instead.

And now it was Face’s turn to frown. “Really? You know that?” 

“I’ve hauled you outta too many female beds not to know that.” 

“I can’t be bi?”

“Are you?”

Face paused, “Does it matter?”

“Obviously to you.”

He shook his head at that and turned for the beach. “Forget it,” he muttered but Hannibal was way past the point of forgetting it.

He rounded the table and followed Face onto the beach, grabbing his arm and spinning him around. “No, kid,” he hissed, “I won’t forget it. You had _no damn right_ to do that back there. No fucking right at all! What do you think I would have said if you’d asked me first? If we’d been in a planning meeting and you’d said, ‘You know, boss, I could just suck the guard off, we could make our escape that way’ what would I have said, Face?” his finger was back to jabbing into Face’s chest. “What the fuck would I have said to you?”

Face glared at him, “You’d have said, ‘Get off my team you filthy fag’,” he hissed. 

Recoiling as if struck, Hannibal hit back. “No! I’d have told you to get a little self-respect! I’d have told you that you were worth more than that, _are_ worth more than that and will always be worth more than that! I’d have told you that we could have done it another way, a distraction is a distraction; it doesn’t have to involve throwing your soul out into the sand! I’d have told you that I would rather have _died_ than have to watch you piss your dignity away on your knees in a shit-hole hovel!”

“You think that?” the incredulity was obvious in Face’s wide-eyed stare. “You think that was me throwing my soul away?” he shook his head. “Boss, that was me doing what was needed for us all to survive. It’s not the first time I’ve done that, it won’t be the last and it was worth it because it worked. It wasn’t some deep and meaningful violation of my psyche, it was a con. It was me sucking another man’s dick to make him take his eye of his knife so I could kill him. Plain and simple, nothing more.”

Hannibal shook his head, amazed that Face couldn’t even start to see how much more it was, and Face turned away. “You just didn’t like seeing what I really am,” he added, stalking off across the sand once more. 

Face was leaving, he was leaving and Hannibal had absolutely no idea what he could do to make any of this better. No idea apart from one, a dangerous one, an idea that would literally make or break his team. He took a deep breath. “I’m gay.” The shout rang out above the sound of the surf and had Face stuttering to a halt, turning slowly to fix Hannibal with a hard stare.

“What?”

Hannibal closed the space between them, “You heard me.”

Now Face just looked confused, his eyes narrowed as he studied Hannibal and Hannibal knew that he was weighing it all up, going over the evidence banks in his mind, sifting through the things he’d seen and heard over the years. It was obvious the very second that he accepted it.

“You never told me.”

“You never asked.”

Face’s humourless laugh was back for that.

“Still think I don’t want any ‘gays’ on the team?”

The flush on Face’s cheeks was clear even in the darkness of the beach. “So...” he shrugged. “So I’m confused then boss,” and he sounded it. “These past few days, what the fuck has it all been about?”

Hannibal let out a long, hard breath. Trust fucking Face to be the only one who could do this to him, corner him like this and take away all his options; the kid would never understand just how powerful he was. “I couldn’t stand to see you do that for him,” he told the waves. “To do what... what I’d always wanted for myself.”

For a long minute, there was silence. Hannibal continued to stare at the sea; Face continued to stare at the side of his head. But then, just at the point where Hannibal realised he needed to walk away, Face took a tiny step closer, until his finger tips were just brushing the edge of Hannibal’s shorts. “No you don’t,” he whispered and the feel of his warm breath on cool skin made Hannibal shiver. “That was nothing, I told you that. You don’t want that, you want more, you want everything I can give you.”

Hannibal twisted his head and saw the damp shine to Face’s eyes once more. “Kid?” he prompted, not sure he dared believe where this might be going. 

“What I did was worth it,” that voice was right in his ear now, “because it saved you. And there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, boss, anything. You know that right? You know I...” he trailed off into an embarrassed silence and Hannibal turned on the spot, his heels digging into the sand as he placed one huge palm on the side of Face’s stubbled cheek.

“Never again,” he whispered, noses almost touching. “Never again, sweet boy. I can’t ever watch you do that again, it would kill me.” His hand slid back so that his fingers were laced into the hair at Face’s nape. “You are too special, your soul is too beautiful. I just...”

He was never sure who exactly made that final move into a kiss, but, even years later he could always remember just how incredible it felt. To have that moment, that yearned for, cherished moment with someone as dear to him as Face had always been, to have Face accept him and even better, want him back... well, it was something that Hannibal would never ever forget, no matter how many wonderful moments they were destined to have. And he knew that there would be more; it was like everything in his world had finally clicked into place as soon as he felt Face’s lips on his.

But this would always be special, the sand, the waves, the stars, Face... and the first of a million kisses.


End file.
